


a far better fate than wisdom

by withthebreezesblown



Series: Only When You Fall [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Found Family, The Taint (Dragon Age), mage combat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:09:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthebreezesblown/pseuds/withthebreezesblown
Summary: my blood approves,and kisses are a far better fatethan wisdom-"Since Feeling is First" by ee cummingsMarian Hawke doesn't die. It's a cause for celebration.





	a far better fate than wisdom

She’s struggling to work loose the stopper of the vial of lyrium in her left hand while keeping the staff in her right firmly planted and a rain of fire pouring down around her. Only a handful of darkspawn left. A draught of lyrium, and she can finish this. The problem is, doing both, it’s like trying to pat her head and rub her stomach at the same time. _Focus_. She’s focusing so hard, though, that there’s no attention left to catch the shape hurtling toward her until it crashes into her, vial smashing into the rocky ground as she lands on her ass, staff skittering across the rocks and dirt.

 _Fucking Deep Roads. Fucking darkspawn. Fucking fuck_. With the last of her mana, she conjures up a barrier, weak and wobbly without the focus and amplification of her staff, and feels it crack like an eggshell under the first blow of the genlock’s greataxe when it hits hard enough to bruise her ribs even through the barrier it’s now broken. The force of it knocks her flat onto her back.

And that’s it. There’s no more mana. Carver is at least twenty feet away and probably hasn’t even seen that she’s gone down yet. Varric, Merrill, Fenris, Isabela, and Aveline are all occupied, and she can’t even see Anders. As the axe rises again, she thinks of an ogre’s hand reaching out; she thinks _this is how it should have been to begin with_ , and _how will Carver and Mother manage without anyone who understands that the world is never going to just give them what they think it owes them, silly gits_ , and _I love you_ , and _be okay_ , and _Andraste’s tits, why couldn’t I have died killing that dragon at the Bone Pit, in the green grass, under the blue sky, instead of in this Maker-bedamned_ hole.

But instead of an axe cleaving her in half, there’s a rush of force so fierce that the tunnel all around and high above quivers with it, dust and debris falling into her eyes as the full impact hits the genlock poised over her, sending him rolling head over feet away from her. She only realizes what has happened, that Anders, behind her, has used a force spell to pull the creature toward him, when she rolls her head back in time to catch his expression of fury as he mutters, “Like the fucking forsaken Void, you will,” and brings the blade end of his staff down with all the propulsion of the anger fueling him. Each slash brings a spattering of blood that lands on his clothes, on his face, but he doesn’t even seem to notice until the third blow lands. He blinks once, twice, and Marian can’t help wondering, still lying on her back with her head craned around, if this is one of those cases where he didn’t seem to know his own strength because it wasn’t just his.

It’s quite then, just the echoing sounds of harsh breathing, which tells her that her companions have finished the rest of the pack of darkspawn. She knows the exact moment Carver catches sight of her still sprawled on the ground, because when he calls out her name, it’s full of fear.

Looking away from Anders, she lets her head fall back onto the ground and sucks in an enormous breath. _Not dead, then_. And suddenly she’s laughing, a high, sharp sound, bouncing around the walls and doubling back on them until it sounds like there are a dozen Marians laughing together. _Alive, alive, alive_.

By the time her brother reaches her, his expression is merely a sort of acerbic relief as he reaches a hand out to pull her up. “All of that, and the only blood I’m about to shed is from my ears.”

She only laughs louder, raising their joined hands above her head and doing a twirl before she relinquishes his, rising onto her tiptoes and mussing his hair as she presses an exaggeratedly loud kiss to his forehead.

When she turns toward Anders, rather than stepping over the dead genlock between them, she does a sort of jig atop it before hopping off, slapping her palms against the mage’s cheeks, and pressing a kiss every bit as exaggeratedly loud as the last right to his lips.

She doesn’t expect him to kiss her back. Whatever that thing he makes her feel, like a burning snake is slithering around in her abdomen, she doesn’t think she’s alone in feeling it, but she’s flirted with him enough times now to expect nothing more than, at best, being brushed aside with that particular expression he seems to save just for her, a sort of smirk that speaks of temptation, annoyance, frustration, and amusement all at once.

What she doesn’t expect is to be shoved away so hard she nearly trips on the corpse behind her and would end up on her ass for the second time if it weren’t for Carver’s hand in the middle of her back, steadying her as he hisses, “Andraste’s flaming knickers.” She isn’t sure if the curse is directed at her or Anders, who is bent double, one hand on his knee, one hand wiping fiercely as his face. Who it’s meant for hardly matters, because for just a moment there is a thing inside of her that aches as badly as her bruised ribs.

But if there’s one thing Marian knows how to hide, it’s hurt, so she gives a shrill snort of derisive laughter. “Well, honestly, I’m not _that_ bad a kisser, am I, Varric?” Grabbing the face of the dwarf who’s just stepped up beside her, she gives him the most over-the-top kiss yet, wiggling her head back and forth a bit like Kitten with a chew toy. When she ends the kiss with smacking sound, she raises an eyebrow in question.

For a moment he just chuckles. “Ah… full marks for enthusiasm, that’s for certain.”

Marian laughs again. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste with you lot, but I’m not dead!” She throws her hands in the air. “Kisses for everyone!”

Aveline gets a pompously Orlesian kiss on each cheek. Merrill receives a rain of kisses all across her face, giggling harder and harder the longer it continues. The expression on Fenris’s face makes her stop a good foot from him, pressing kisses into her fingers and making a show of blowing them all over him. Isabela looks entirely prepared to press her up against the wall and not let go anytime soon, so she places a finger against the pirate’s lips as she steps in, head ducking around to leave a series of open mouthed kisses up the side of her neck, ending in a nip at her ear before, delighted with herself, she dances away.

It’s only when Anders catches her by the arm, turning her toward him, that the laughter stops. He is entirely serious, and for some reason it is terrible, and she doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say.

“Look, I am most gracious about having my life sav–”

“Marian, do you know what this _is_?” He holds out the hand that hand been wiping at his face a moment ago, smeared with thick, dark, unctuous blood.

She flashes a bitter smile. “Hmm, you know, I _may_ have seen blood _once_ or twice before. Possibly.”

“Marian, this is a _death sentence_. This is a _cage_. You have no idea. You’re like a bird who thinks the whole world is the sky, and… Maker, I didn’t know people like you existed. But _this_ ,” he raises his bloody fingers toward her, “is a cage that will take your freedom from you, and maybe it’s not as bad as the Circle, but unlike the Circle, there’s no escape from this. I’d kill every templar in the Gallows to keep you out of there, but this…” He sighs, finally wiping his hand against his already bloody robes. He steps in closer to her, and though the gentle brush of his lips against her cheek is the most chaste and innocent kiss that’s been given, it is the one that makes her feel warm and dazzled as a good glass of brandy.

He smiles at her, for once without annoyance or frustration. It’s warm and faintly sad. “I know it’s a terrible burden, but have a care, would you? Just one or two.”


End file.
